Archive of Our Own

Tooru turns away from the window of the shinkansen. He channels his inner ten-year-old, kicks Iwaizumi sitting next to him and asks, “Are we there yet?”

Iwaizumi punches him in the stomach, just hard enough to hurt. “I don’t know. You’re the one with the itinerary.”

Tooru wilts. “You’re right.” He flicks open the calendar app on his phone: their train should come into Sendai in another half-hour, then transfer to the local train to Iwanuma, then a bus, then about half an hour of walking from the bus stop to the Bakegawa river, for a total travel time of nearly eight hours.

Iwaizumi’s convinced it’s a wild goose chase.

“There’s no way there’s an actual yokai village in Miyagi,” he had said to Tooru, in the middle of marking up a student’s essay a few weeks ago.“Or if there is, it was probably abandoned by the Meiji era. Like a Japanese Atlantis or something.”

“We know yokai exist,” Tooru said, tacking the map up over one of Iwaizumi’s Godzilla posters. “So why wouldn’t a bunch of yokai congregate in one secluded area?”

Iwaizumi tugged the jar of thumbtacks out of Tooru’s hands. “Leave my shit alone, that one’s a limited edition.”

“I didn’t put any tacks in the poster, Iwa-chan, calm down.” Tooru laughed and ducked as Iwaizumi swung at him. “Anyway, back to my point.”

“Competition for food and resources,” Iwaizumi said, slipping into his Professor Iwaizumi voice. “Most yokai feed off humans. If there aren’t any, what will they eat? Yokai are competition for each other, not friends.”

“ Most yokai, Iwa-chan! Not all! And I have evidence! ” Tooru slid the plastic folder off his own desk and onto Iwaizumi’s. “There’s a ton of photos and scans of scrolls mentioning an all-yokai village in Miyagi in there, check it out.”

Iwaizumi shook the papers out of the file with a frown. “It still doesn’t really make sense to me.”

“Too bad,” Tooru said “My grant proposal got approved and we’re leaving in two weeks, so your arguments are all hereby declared null and void.” Tooru twirled and made a victory sign with both hands, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

He’s sighing now, one hand curled around a plastic bottle of Ito-en green tea. “Hey shittykawa,” he says, “what if we get there and there’s no river? Or village? Or it exists but humans can’t see it because of yokai magic?”

Tooru grins. “I have a plan.”

Iwaizumi glares at him. “Don’t tell me you intend to seduce a yokai.”

Tooru ignores the glare and pulls out his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. “I have several plans.”

“Oh my god.” Iwaizumi uncaps his tea with more emotion than the poor bottle deserves. “We’re going to die. Eminent Yokai-gaku researchers Oikawa and Iwaizumi, killed by an angry tennin after a failed seduction attempt on the part of Oikawa Tooru.” Iwaizumi punctuates this pronouncement of doom with a swig of green tea.

Tooru rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to try to get with a yokai, chill. We’ll just go to one of the neighboring villages and ask around. Duh, Iwa-chan.”

Their third train of the day is a local express to Iwanuma, home to the Takekoma Inari shrine. Tooru kind of wants to stop there and check the shrine for kitsune, but there’s no guarantee any of them would want to talk to Tooru or Iwaizumi. The two of them aren’t particularly diligent Inari worshippers. They do end up getting a quick lunch at the train station cafe, however.

“We have to get to Bakegawa before sundown,” Tooru tells Iwaizumi over prepackaged milk bread and sandwiches.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I know. I don’t want to get eaten by some malevolent yokai either.” His eyes flick to Tooru’s hand, which is absently touching the scar Tooru got the last time they were out at twilight. “Chill, Oikawa. We’ll make it in time. We’re not going to run up against anything we can’t handle.” He picks up his sandwich wrapper and tosses it in the trash. “Let’s go.”

Everyone else on the bus knows each other. There’s a cluster of mothers with children at the back, gossiping about their husbands. Three elderly women sit and knit scarves in the middle. Two men that appear about Tooru and Iwaizumi’s age get on in front of them and are greeted by cheerful shouts from all sides.

“Kuroo-ji-san! Daichi-ji-san!” A kid detaches from his mom’s skirt and runs up to wrap his pudgy arms around the guy’s legs, making him stumble.

“I’m too young to be a ji-san,” the man with close-cropped hair insists. “I’m not even thirty.”

“You have an uncle-like aura, Daichi, just accept it,” The man with ridiculous bedhead responds. He grins at the kid. “Hey, Taro-chan. How are things? How’s your mom?” The man has long bangs covering his entire right eye. He winks at Tooru with the left eye and gives Taro-chan a gummy candy from his pocket.

Iwaizumi and Tooru pay for their tickets, watching with bewilderment. They sit down and are immediately surrounded by a group of curious children. “Who are you? What are you doing on our bus?” They press their faces into Tooru’s space, and he shrinks back. Tooru knows how to interact with kids, sure. But only when given advance notice. They talk over each other at a clamor, and Tooru can barely distinguish the voices.

“What’s in your backpack? Do you have candy?” One of the little boys reaches over the seats in front of them to paw through Tooru’s bag, while another grabs onto Iwaizumi’s. “What’s on your keychain?” the kid asks, and Iwaizumi starts talking about Godzilla. Tooru is frozen.

He doesn’t usually get sudden attacks of curious tiny people who want his candy on the bus, and he’d prefer not to, ever. The bus goes over a bump and some of the kids lose their balance and cling to Tooru and Iwaizumi’s legs, which is definitely uncalled for. Tooru picks up a grubby five-year old and sets him upright with the most charitable expression he can muster.

Bedhead Man sits down on Tooru’s other side. “Sorry about them,” he says, sounding completely unapologetic. “We don’t usually see strangers here. I’m Kuroo.”

“Oikawa,” Tooru responds. “This is Iwaizumi. We’re researchers from Kyodai.”

“Kyodai, huh. That’s pretty far.” Kuroo doesn’t seem to recognize their names. Oh well. Yokai-gaku is a niche field. Kuroo must not have heard of it.

He looks closer at Kuroo. At first glance he seems like a normal Japanese young adult, wearing an old maroon sweatshirt and joggers. But then Kuroo pushes a hand up through his bangs and Tooru has to work to keep a straight face. Kuroo doesn’t have a right eye at all. Where an eye would be is just a flat expanse of skin, like he was never meant to have two eyes.

“It’s a good location for those in our field,” Tooru says after a split second of hesitation. Kyoto and the Osaka area in general are absolutely teeming with yokai, Gion especially. Tooru’s interviewed tanuki and tengu, kitsune and kappas. He likes it.

“What’s your field?” Kuroo slouches as far down as possible, settling in for the ride, already dismissing Tooru’s response. How rude.

Tooru’s not certain how the man will react, especially if Tooru’s initial guess is correct. “Yokai,” Tooru says, watching Kuroo carefully.

Kuroo startles. His hair sticks out in all directions, sharp and pointy, like he stuck his fingers in an electrical socket. Definitely a yokai, then.

The rest of the bus hushes suddenly, everyone gawking at Tooru and Iwaizumi like they’d opened up a shaken soda bottle in the middle of the bus.

“Are you going to Bakegawa?” one of the little old ladies asks, peeking at them over her knitting.

“That’s the plan!” Tooru says over his shoulder, straightening up in his seat. “Iwa-chan’s convinced it doesn’t exist.”

“I’m skeptical,” Iwaizumi corrects him.

“Eh,” Kuroo says. “Some of us live there. It’s not all-yokai though, we have people living in it.”

“Kuroo’s the unofficial ambassador,” Kuroo’s companion cuts in. He’s standing up in the middle of the bus and holding onto a pole. Tooru has to crane his neck back to look the man in the eye, but he has an open, honest face that screams trustworthiness. “He’s half-bakeneko, half-human, all determined to help humans deal with yokai messing with them.”

“You say the sweetest things, my dear.”

The man rolls his eyes. “I’m Sawamura Daichi, by the way. I’m a human, but I moved to Bakegawa recently. I’m a teacher in Shibata.”

“So why...?”

“It’s a long story,” Sawamura sighs. Kuroo grins at him and stretches his hand out towards Sawamura. Sawamura holds Kuroo’s hand like it’s something he always does.

“Kuroo-ji-san and Daichi-ji-san are in love, ” one of the kids interjects.

“Quiet, Saki-chan,” Kuroo and Sawamura say in unison. Kuroo lets go of Sawamura’s hand, red all the way to his ears.

“Anyway,” Sawamura continues, collecting himself, “if you’re trying to get to Bakegawa, you have to get off at the last stop and then follow the chouchinbi lights through the rice fields until you get to the mulberry grove. Then turn right. Also, you have to go before it gets dark. Once you’re in the village, you’re fine, it’s just getting there that’s...you know.”

Tooru nods, understanding. “Thank you.”

Kuroo tugs on Sawamura’s sleeve, making him lose his balance. He whispers at Sawamura for a few minutes. The bus ride continues, winding through the narrow road along the ocean. The cliffside view reminds Tooru of an old movie, or a postcard. Late afternoon light glistening off the waves, children being fed orange slices by one of the grannies. Iwaizumi takes out his phone to check his messages. “So, how do you, um, know all of these people?” Tooru asks eventually. It’s probably a rude question to ask, but he’s curious, okay.

“I’m useful,” Kuroo says. “Like Daichi said, I help humans when they have yokai problems. A lot of people know me. And now they know Daichi by association.”

“Because you’re in love, ” the kid from earlier yells. Her mother shushes her.

“Also we take the bus a lot,” Sawamura adds. “It’s convenient, good for the environment, etcetera.” Kuroo snorts.

Iwaizumi asks Kuroo a few research questions about his abilities and family history while Tooru takes notes and the children watch them in awe. Tooru can tell what his best friend is thinking: even if they can’t get into the yokai village, at least they’ll have gotten something out of this trip.

Kuroo turns into a cat for a second to show them his powers, but the bus driver yells, “No animals allowed on this bus!” and he turns back into a human to apologize.

The bus driver laughs, “I know it’s you, Kuroo-san, but rules are rules. You know better.”

Kuroo bows again, face red.

It takes them almost an hour to get to the last stop, and Tooru finds himself worriedly glancing out the window at the clouds growing darker and bluer. He’d looked it up earlier and they were supposed to have at least an hour before sunset started to get to Bakegawa, but the sun seemed to be setting already. Tooru fiddles with the zipper pull on his backpack.

Iwaizumi nudges his shoulder. “Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

Iwaizumi nudges him again, harder. “Shittykawa.”

“It’s a reasonable thing to be worried about,” Tooru snaps. He and Iwaizumi both have protection charms and spells in their pockets, and they know how to deal with some types of yokai, but as humans, they’re vulnerable.

Kuroo turns to look directly at Tooru and smirks.

Tooru bristles. “What?”

“We could walk with you,” Kuroo suggests, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Me and Daichi, I mean.”

Sawamura gives them a thumbs up. He seems exactly like the kind of guy to help some random strangers he just met. Kuroo seems considerably more...morally grey.

“That would be great, thanks,” Iwaizumi says, before Tooru has a chance to reply. “It’s always better to be in an unfamiliar place with local guides, right?” He kicks Tooru once.

“Yes, thank you,” Tooru says. He’s still not completely certain about trusting these guys, but...they don’t really have any other options at this point, do they?

They get off the bus at the last stop. It’s at the edge of a small town, next to some large rice fields. There are some glowing lights hovering at around eye level in between the rice fields. Chochinbi, “yokai lights”. The sky is rapidly growing darker, shading to orange and purple, and the yokai lights shine a stark neon green against the setting sun. Tooru tries to snap some pictures with his phone, but the lights wink out the moment the shutter goes off. He puts his phone back in his pocket with a “hmph,” pouting but not willing to risk losing their navigation.

Kuroo bounds ahead, taking long, quick strides. “How many times do I have to tell you to slow down! ” Sawamura yells at his boyfriend.

Kuroo skids to a stop halfway across the field. “My bad.”

Sawamura shakes his head. “You’re hopeless, Tetsurou.” He catches up and grabs Kuroo’s hand, less affectionate and more in a “don’t run off like that again, you idiot” kind of way.

“How did you two meet?” Iwaizumi asks.

“He punched me in the face,” Kuroo says. “It was awesome.”

Sawamura turns around to face Iwaizumi. “I was supervising a haunted house at the middle school’s cultural festival. He decided to help by scaring the shit out of me.”

“The important thing is that everything worked out as planned,” Kuroo replies, smirking unrepentantly.

They reach the end of the chochinbi line, stopping in a grove of mulberry trees next to a high mountain. Tooru shivers. The entrance to Bakegawa is here, at the crossroads of cultivated farmland and wild mountain trail, the border of humanity and nature. Yokai live in the in-between space, and there’s nothing more in-between than whatever lies beyond this grove.

Kuroo sticks a long, gangly arm out to prevent the three humans from going forward. “So, I don’t know how sensitive you two are to the presence of ghosts and spirits, but there’s an onryo up ahead who will try to fuck you up.”

Tooru shivers. The air is clammy and tinged with something eerie. He would have attributed it to the oumagatoki atmosphere, but Kuroo’s comment means he knows better, and the more vengeful the onryo, the more present their force. It’s too late in the season for cicadas, but a droning sound persists around them, burrowing into his head. The resonance is bone-deep, making his legs feel weak. The air smells like blood. Blood and mulberry leaves. He coughs on the scent. Gross.

Iwaizumi stands as tall and steady as ever. They’ve dealt with ghosts before where Tooru could describe the ghost’s entire appearance while Iwaizumi just saw a faint haze, or nothing there at all. Tooru’s never been so envious of Iwaizumi’s lack of sensitivity. “Can you tell us anything else?” Iwaizumi asks.

Kuroo peers into the twilight. He can probably see a lot further with his one yokai eye than any of the humans present. “I haven’t seen her before, but she seems really mad. Either we hang out here until it’s totally dark and she’s a little weakened, or... I dunno, you’re yokai researchers, you probably have some ways to deal with onryo, right?”

Tooru pulls out a scrap of paper with a Buddhist prayer out of his backpack’s front pocket, as well as a pocket-knife. Iwaizumi does the same. “This is not our first rodeo, Kuroo-kun,” Tooru says. He does his best to shake off the onryo and stand tall. If they’re going to fight, he’s going to be sure he looks like a badass.

“If I was alone I’d turn into a cat and just slide past,” Kuroo mutters. “But I can’t abandon y’all like that.”

“Well, you could,” Sawamura claps Kuroo on the back, “but then I’d kill you, so.” Sawamura has a knife of his own, with a shinto prayer scratched into the handle, and a brocade protection charm tied around his wrist.

Tooru goes over his mental notes on Kuroo’s skills again. He can turn into a cat, can turn hair into darts and shoot it at enemies. Can’t summon fireballs, because he’s only half-bakeneko. When in cat form, however, can light a fire with his tail. “I have an idea,” Tooru says.

The onryo is waiting for them at the end of the grove. She’s glowing white, floating about a meter above the ground, with long, stringy black hair spinning out around her twisted face. Blood drips out of her mouth onto her grubby white dress. She exudes malice and magic, darkening the air around her.

Kuroo shifts into a cat instantaneously: one second he’s a human, the next he’s on all fours and quietly walking under the ghost. His tail sparks. The onryo shrieks with rage and twists to follow the flame. While she’s distracted, Tooru charges straight at her, Iwaizumi and Sawamura on either side.

The first time Tooru and Iwaizumi had run into an onryo, they’d tried to reason with it. Both of them had thought they could talk the vengeful spirit into resting. Iwaizumi still has a scar from that experience. It’s never quite healed.

Tooru mutters Shinto prayers under his breath and presses his knife against the ghost’s throat. Even though it’s not a person anymore, even though it’s cold and slimy instead of warm and dry, it feels distressingly solid and real. Ghosts still bleed, still scream, and though its heart doesn’t beat anymore, Tooru feels something pulsing under his hands as the onryo finally collapses into mist and dust, taking her spattered ghost blood with it.

There’s a few beats of silence as Kuroo shifts back into a human and dusts himself off. “Ugh,” He says. “I need a bath.”

“The good news is,” Sawamura says, taking a few steps forward, “the entrance to Bakegawa’s clear now. We can go ahead.”

Kuroo shoves a curtain of vines to one side and bows. “After you, human friends.” Sawamura rolls his eyes, but steps through, motioning for Tooru and Iwaizumi to follow.

Bakegawa village sits on a river, also called Bakegawa. The river flows in and out of the human realm, like a thread stitching the earthly world and spiritual world together. In the light of the full moon, the river glows a strange, emerald green. It’s also teeming with creatures. Kappa, ushi-oni, huge scale-covered tails that probably belong to some kind of sea serpents. Some kawauso sit on a low bridge over the river, dangling their tails in the water and passing a bottle of sake back and forth.

The architecture really reminds Tooru of the historical part of Kyoto, ancient and riverbound. Instead of lanterns, there’s fireballs, bright and colorful and hovering in the air along paths. There’s a wide main street along the river at its widest part, lined with shops selling food and other things. “It feels like we’re in a tourist area,” Iwaizumi whispers to Tooru, who nods, wide-eyed. He’s never seen this many yokai in one place.

A gong rings. Kuroo’s hair sticks up again, and he swears under his breath.“So, here’s what’s happening,” Kuroo says, grabbing Iwaizumi and Tooru by the shoulders and dragging them off to the side. “Tonight’s the full moon, which I forgot about. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons happens here every full moon. Humans are not allowed to watch said parade on pain of consequences. I don’t know what those consequences are because no human has ever seen the Night Parade, but there’s a first time for everything!” His eyes narrow. “And I don’t want to see it.”

Sawamura bows. “We suggest you stay at our place for the night and have a nice, homecooked dinner with me and Kuroo, indoors, avoiding possible eternal torture.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you for your hospitality,” Iwaizumi says. To Tooru, he says, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Tooru freezes mid-step. “Think about what?” He gives Iwaizumi his best wide-eyed, innocent blink.

Iwaizumi is not amused. “Watching the parade, dumbass. You can’t publish papers if you’re dead.”

Tooru throws up his hands. “Iwa-chan, your fear of mortality inconveniences me so much.”

“Your lack of any kind of self-preservation instinct inconveniences me, ” Iwaizumi replies, crossing his arms, “as the person most likely to have to explain to your mother the convoluted and stupid way you managed to get yourself killed.”

Tooru sticks his tongue out at Iwaizumi and immediately resolves to find a way to watch the stupid parade out of pure spite. Well. Spite and academic curiosity.

Sawamura’s a good cook, as it turns out. Kuroo claims to only be capable of grilling mackerel and making rice in the rice cooker, but Sawamura produces a surprisingly tasty pot of stew that’s perfect for the early autumn chill. Their home is small and old-fashioned, but clean, comfortable and homey. Tooru is a bit disgusted by how much of a model couple Sawamura and Kuroo appear to be.

“So,” Tooru says nonchalantly, putting an elbow on the kitchen counter next to where Kuroo’s washing the dishes. “when does the Night Parade start? Who’s in it? How does this work?” He has his notebook out and is ready to take notes.

Kuroo raises his eyebrow. “Don’t the Kyoto yokai run a Night Parade?”

“Yeah, but that’s annual instead of monthly and humans are allowed to watch if they buy tickets.” Tooru scoffs. “It’s more like a festival than anything, very commercialized, very modern.” Iwaizumi kicks him in the shins before Tooru can go off on another rant about gentrification and the destruction of cultural authenticity. Tooru pulls back with a hiss.

“Ours is like a ritual, yeah. The Nurarihyon leads the parade. It starts at the entrance to the village and goes all the way up the mountain. Any yokai who wants to can walk in it, it doesn’t have to be exactly a hundred demons. You’ll hear it when it goes by our house. I dunno, it’s loud and fun?” Kuroo shrugs.

“That’s it?” Tooru slumps a little. The parade in Kyoto was huge, an update on an ancient ritual, powerful and magical despite the souvenir stalls and corporate sponsorships. Tooru and Iwaizumi went every year.

Kuroo shrugs again, “Sorry.”

They finish drying the dishes and move to the living room. Iwaizumi’s going through Kuroo and Sawamura’s surprisingly extensive video game collection when Sawamura clears his throat and beckons Tooru into the other room.

“Don’t ask me how I know this, but there’s actually a way for you to watch the parade without getting taken away by the yokai.” Sawamura looks around, like a delinquent trading contraband in a schoolyard, and passes a small scrap of paper to Tooru. “You have to recite this spell when it goes by. That’s it.”

“And you’re sure this works?”

“Positive.” Sawamura blushes slightly and refuses to meet Tooru’s eyes. “Tetsurou was in the parade once or twice, and I wanted to be supportive, so I found the spell in a book and watched the parade from the roof.”

“That is so sweet, I want to throw up,” Tooru says. “But why didn’t you just tell him you did that?”

Sawamura cringes. “He’s... protective. Would probably go on and on about how spells are all just placebo effects and how worried he is about me, like I haven’t been dealing with yokai since before I moved here. He loves me, but..."

“That’s disgustingly sweet.” Tooru sighs. “Thank you very much, Sawacchi.”

“It’s obnoxious is what it is.” But Sawamura’s smile is soft. He gives Tooru a nod. “The stairs to the roof are in the back,” he says.

Kuroo sets up Mario Kart and tells the newcomers about his friend, Kenma. “He’s almost always in cat form, but he turns into a human to play video games and kick my ass. A human in town thought he was a stray and adopted him, so Kenma just lives as that kid’s cat and sneaks over here to game every so often. The human still hasn’t found out the truth.”

“Hinata’s not very bright,” Sawamura sighs, long-suffering. “Or good at Mario Kart. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Predictably, Kuroo wins.

It’s not going to be easy to sneak away, Tooru realizes. So he does the next best thing and surreptitiously texts Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi is, as usual, difficult to convince. He drags Tooru into the kitchen under the pretense of a glass of water. “Sawamura says this spell’s going to protect you from the Night Parade? It looks like gibberish.”

“Sawacchi’s trustworthy! Look at him!” Tooru gestures towards Sawamura with his entire arm.

“You gave him a nickname already?”

Sawamura is at this moment losing to Kuroo in Mario Kart and swearing under his breath.

Iwaizumi frowns. “Still, I don’t know.”

Tooru throws up his hands. “It’ll work! You’re too skeptical.”

Tooru’s not sure how it happened sometimes. They both heard the azuki-arai washing his beans in the river when they were seven, they both got pranked by the kitsune selling fake popsicles three years later, yet somehow Iwaizumi ended up a skeptic and Tooru a believer. Iwaizumi refuses to listen to anything not supported by at least three other sources, and even when he encounters yokai face to face, he still treats them like they’re ordinary humans. “Of course yokai exist. Doesn’t mean I believe in them,” Iwaizumi likes to say.

They feel the parade get near more than they hear it, the ground rumbling unevenly from the dozens of yokai dancing over it. Sawamura slides the window in the living room shut. Kuroo puts on rock music to drown out the noise.

Tooru gets up quietly and makes his way over to the ladder in the back. The house is only one story, so he climbs up to the flat roof and sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, phone out to take pictures and notes for his research. He’s memorized the spell by now, and mutters it under his breath. "KA-TA-SHI-HA-YA, E-KA-SE-NI-KU-RI-NI, TA-ME-RU-SA-KE, TE-E-HI, A-SHI-E-HI, WA-RE-SHI-KO-NI-KE-RI." It sounds like gibberish, but Tooru tries not to think about it.

He sees the glow of the lantern yokai first, lighting up the entire forest. These hop along on long legs, casting their light over the whole parade. The next thing he sees is the huge, gourd-shaped head and monk’s robes of the Nurarihyon, leading the parade just like Kuroo said. Tooru repeats the spell a hair louder. Tooru met a Nurarihyon once, but they didn’t get along. He doesn’t want to get on this one’s bad side. There’s kitsune, amikiri, mujina. Tooru can’t remember ever seeing such a variety of yokai in one place. He tries to take a picture, but the camera doesn’t pick up anything. The Nurarihyon probably cast a spell on the parade or something

The overall impression, he decides, is a feeling of pure energy. Heat and motion and light all radiating from the line of monsters dancing in front of him, rising up to the roofline and making his pulse speed up in time with the beat of the yokai drums.

The yokai transform from shape to shape as they walk, from animal to human to monster and back again. Tooru’s particularly drawn to a glowing white fox in a kimono that twirls as he walks, shifting into a beautiful man with silver hair then back into fox form. Probably a myoubu from the Takekoma Inari shrine. Tooru’ll have to pay them a visit after all.

The parade is passing in front of the house now. Tooru fights the urge to hide behind his phone, and instead focuses on committing as many details to memory as he can.

The myoubu looks up, and Tooru finds himself gazing straight into a pair of big, round brown eyes. His mouth falls open, and he realizes a second later that he’s stopped saying the spell.

Well, fuck, Tooru thinks, but the myoubu beams at him, his smile shining with the full force of the moon. Everything about the fox man shines, sharp and ethereal and refreshing. He has fox ears sitting on top of his head, snow-white and fluffy, and a beauty mark under his left eye. He winks and (this is the least believable thing that has ever happened to Oikawa Tooru) blows him a kiss. A myoubu, a sacred shrine fox of Inari, blew him a kiss. And then shifted back into fox form like it was nothing at all.

Tooru will swear later that he felt the kiss land on him, burn into the side of his face like a promise.

Right now, Tooru’s trying his best not to fall off the roof. Some of the yokai marching past have horns and he’s not ready to get impaled yet. He curls his stockinged feet into the shingles and keeps whispering magic words. There’s a cold wind blowing into his back, and he regrets not grabbing his jacket earlier. Besides the myoubu, none of the yokai seem to notice him.

The procession isn’t anywhere near as long as the parade in Kyoto. In a matter of minutes, the light vanishes and the rumbling fades to nothing, with only footsteps in the dirt road as evidence of what happened.

He climbs back down to his friends all arguing. Kuroo’s pissed that Sawamura didn’t tell him about the spell, and Iwaizumi was worried about Tooru (he’s always worried too much, ever since they were kids). They fall silent when Tooru walks in.

“You know, it’s really rude to climb on someone’s roof without asking,” Kuroo says, forcing his voice to stay level. “It could’ve crumbled under your weight. This is an old house.”

Iwaizumi gapes at him. “How is that even remotely the point?” He glares at Tooru, resigned and familiar. “Glad you survived, dumbass.”

“Is dumbass the only insult you know?” Tooru beams. Iwaizumi scowls. They’ve run through these conversational beats so many times over the course of their lives that it feels as natural as breathing.

Sawamura and Kuroo have a short argument with their eyebrows, and then seem to decided to table it for when they don’t have people over. “So, how was it?” Sawamura asks, pouring out cups of green tea for everyone. “See anything interesting?” The four of them sit down at the kitchen table with their tea.

“I did, yeah! There were a lot of yokai I haven’t seen before.” He’s not sure he has the words to describe it anymore. The way everyone in the parade kept shifting and changing forms, like colored sand swirling into different patterns. How the drum beat seemed to pull something deeply primordial and ancient out of the earth and into the air.

Tooru hesitates and runs a finger around the edge of the ceramic cup. “Do you know anything about the fox spirits in this area?” he asks.

The two locals exchange a Look. “You saw Suga,” they say in unison, grinning. Tooru and Iwaizumi stare blankly, Iwaizumi sipping his tea.

“Suga-chan’s a myoubu who works at the Inari shrine,” Kuroo explains, horribly knowing smirk on his face. “Silver hair, beauty mark under his left eye. He probably caught your attention somehow, right?”

Tooru very carefully keeps a blank expression. “How’d you know?” He inches back in his chair, putting as much distance between himself and Kuroo’s smirk as possible.

“I’ve been friends with Sugawara Koushi since high school, before he changed into a myoubu,” Sawamura explains.

“And he’s the only interesting fox spirit we have around here,” Kuroo adds. “By ‘interesting’ I mostly mean ‘attractive.’ I must say, I wasn’t expecting that to be your type.” He glances in Iwaizumi’s direction.

Iwaizumi scowls. “We tried dating once. Didn’t go well.”

Tooru cringes. It’s extremely true.

Sawamura tilts his head to the side and stares at Tooru calculatingly. “Do you want me to text Suga for you?”

“Myoubu can have cell phones?” Tooru blurts out, which makes everyone look at him with disbelief. “I thought they were like, super-special monks or something.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time in shrines; shrines and temples make him uncomfortable. Tooru’s not a fan of praying to things he can’t see. At least yokai are visible. Most of them, anyway.

Kuroo snickers. “It’s a job, not a lifestyle. More modern shrine maiden than monk.”

Sawamura’s phone chirps, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “So, Suga just texted me.”

Tooru’s not sure how to react. He’s so twitchy he wants to jump out of his skin, but he can’t move. Is it nerves? Excitement? It’s more of either than he’s felt in years. He bites his lip. “What did he say?”

Sawamura makes a face like he’s struggling not to laugh and passes the phone to Tooru.

“So tell me about your new human friend (*°▽°*),” the message reads. “At least I hope that was your friend bc he was on top of your house and if u don’t know a hot guy with fluffy brown hair then go double-check that your valuables are all where they should be”

Tooru laughs in spite of himself. “Can I text him?”

“Sure.” Sawamura surrenders his phone.

“Refreshing-kun, what a coincidence~! \(^ヮ^)/ My name’s Oikawa Tooru. I’m actually a human studying yokai, here for research. You’re a myoubu, yes? Would you be willing to let me interview you for my paper? If so, here’s my personal phone number.”

Tooru’s phone vibrates in his pocket a second later, so he hands Sawamura’s phone back to him with a “thank you.”

“Unknown: LOL Refreshing-kun, that’s cute. Please call me Suga. Were you staring at me for purely professional reasons, then? (￢ω￢ )

Unknown: But yes, I’m a myoubu! I work at the Inari Shrine, sunrise to sunset every weekday, and from noon to sunset on Saturdays. Feel free to come by tomorrow afternoon and see how I do my work~

Unknown: And do tell me how you met Daichi and Kuroo!! we haven’t had any new humans here in ages so this is pretty exciting.”

By this point, it’s pretty late, and Tooru and Iwaizumi’s plans for the night are completely messed up. Sawamura and Kuroo kindly agree to let them crash in their guest room. Tooru’s too tired and too distracted with texting Suga. Suga replies quickly, his messages bordering on flirtatious but never too much.

Me: So, Sawacchi mentioned you used to be a human? How did uh. How did you turn into a yokai???

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): we should probably save questions like that for the interview, right?

Me: hm yeah good point

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): tell me about yourself, Oikawa-san! How did you get into yokai-gaku in the first place?

Me: my best friend iwa-chan and I encountered an azuki arai when we were kids, and we’ve been researching yokai stuff ever since p much

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): that’s so awesome! Good on you for pursuing a lifelong dream (*^‿^*)

Me: my turn~ since we’re not asking Interview Questions here...what’s your favorite color???

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): hmmmmmm red, I think

Iwaizumi stares at Tooru, his frown deepening every time the phone pings. “I’ve never seen you develop a crush this quickly. And on a yokai, too. Although that’s less surprising,” Iwaizumi says, sounding vaguely alarmed.

“Why is that less surprising?” Kuroo asks.

“Oikawa spends so much time around yokai for research, why wouldn’t he catch feelings for one?” Iwaizumi explains.

“It’s not a crush,” Tooru insists. Not yet, at least.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you say. I think I’ll interview some villagers here tomorrow, you can get to Iwanuma yourself.”

“Sounds good! We should probably look into a hostel or something for tomorrow night, too.” Tooru doesn’t even look up from the phone.

“I’ll make the reservation,” Iwaizumi sighs.

Before they all get ready for bed, Kuroo gives the two researches some disposable earplugs. “They don’t make noise every night, but we have some yonari under our house and they get rowdy around midnight, so just in case. We haven’t had the heart to banish them fully.”

“Or the money,” Sawamura adds. “Proper banishments without wrecking the foundation of the house are expensive.”

“Yonari?” Tooru echoes in disbelief. “Are you serious? I’ve never seen any before! Do they really look like tiny oni, that’s adorable, I’m going to take so many pictures—”

“They won’t show up if you stay awake, Idiotkawa,” Iwaizumi says, flicking Tooru on the top of his head. He sticks the earplugs in and falls asleep immediately, but Tooru can’t, too distracted by the thought of possibly seeing a new kind of yokai. He hears some rattling floorboards in the night, but he can’t pinpoint where the sound is coming from, so he finally falls asleep feeling slightly disappointed.

Saturday is an unseasonably warm day, particularly for Miyagi. Tooru wakes up and decides to go ahead and make breakfast for everyone. There’s rice in the pantry, eggs in the fridge and an omelette pan for tamagoyaki, so Tooru starts on that. He wonders how much Kuroo’s diet differs from an average human’s, since he’s half cat yokai. Does he eat cat food half the time? Does he eat cat food at all? The fridge has a lot of fish and raw meat in it. Presumably most of that belongs to Kuroo.

The man himself walks in right when Tooru turns off the burner, wearing what looks like the same sweatpants as yesterday and yawning loudly.

“Hey, do you eat cat food?”

Kuroo’s one eye blinks at him. “Good morning to you too, Oikawa-kun.” He pulls some plates out of the cabinets and adds, “No, I don’t eat cat food, it tastes terrible. How did you sleep, by the way?”

“Well, thank you! Do you need to sleep a lot, like a cat?”

Kuroo rolls his eye, which is certainly a sight to see. “I sleep more than average for humans, less than average for cats. Take a lot of naps. It suits my purposes.”

Sawamura and Iwaizumi come in through the front door about ten minutes later, out of breath and laughing about something. Tooru can’t believe he didn’t see this coming. His best friend has an uncanny ability to find someone to exercise with every time they go to a new location for more than a single day.

“Good morning,” Iwaizumi says. “Oikawa, you cooked?”

“Of course I cooked,” Tooru retorts, “I am a very polite houseguest!” Iwaizumi gives him a doubtful look.

“He asked me if I ate cat food,” Kuroo says. Tooru shoves a hand over his mouth, too late.

“Of course he did.” Iwaizumi snorts. “I can assure you, the food’s good. It’s Oikawa’s one redeeming quality.” He sits down and takes some of the tamagoyaki.

“Thank you for your support,” Tooru says drily. “Now eat or it’s going to get cold and gross.”

While they eat, Iwaizumi tells Tooru about his run; Sawamura had been considerate enough to take them on the long route through the main streets, so Iwaizumi could see the yokai and the shops and how everything was set up. “I recorded all the important info, I’ll send you the file later.”

“Iwa-chan is so good at his job,” Tooru sighs fondly. “It’s his one redeeming quality.”

Iwaizumi makes a show of cracking his knuckles. “You wanna say that again, Shittykawa?”

Sawamura, having forged a new bond with Iwaizumi through morning exercise rituals, volunteers to show Iwaizumi around and help him with interviews. Kuroo has a job to do— something about a ceiling yokai terrorizing a human family in a nearby village that the family wants him to get rid of. So he takes the bus with Tooru, although he has to get off a few stops earlier.

It’s always fascinated Tooru how different the same place could be at night versus the day, and the entrance to Bakegawa is no different. The chouchinbi have vanished in the sunny morning, and the grove which had seemed so menacing in twilight feels delightfully green and bright now.

There’s a whole family of tanuki at the bus stop when they arrive, the children whining about having to stay human-shaped for the whole bus ride. The parents and older kids smile and greet Kuroo when they see him. Tooru nods politely and tries not to look like an obvious target. Tanuki tend to see Tooru as someone to be pranked, and he’s not in the mood for that today.

Kuroo stands, leaning against the windows of the bus in the middle section, while Tooru sits. He quickly regrets this decision because Kuroo takes advantage of the opportunity to loom. Tooru’s convinced the ability to bend like some kind of anime character is a yokai thing, because he’s never seen a human do that before. Tooru does his best not to shrink under Kuroo’s frankly terrifying smirk.

Kuroo leans in closer as he asks, very quietly, “What are your intentions towards our Suga-chan?”

“Since when is he your Suga-chan?” Tooru snaps at three times Kuroo’s volume. He swears he hears the tanuki giggle..

Kuroo looks up and starts counting on his fingers. “He’s Daichi’s best friend from high school, and I first met Suga when Daichi and I got together, so like...five years now? Six? Anyway, he’s a very good friend of ours and if you hurt him you will die.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think this is a little premature? We’ve barely even texted at this point.”

Kuroo sighs and stretches his arms like a cat. “I know Suga, and although I haven’t known you for very long I think I have a pretty good idea of who you are as a person by this point, and I feel like the two of you are going to get along horrifyingly well.”

“Haven’t you heard? I get along well with everyone!”

“Except children and certain tanuki, according to Iwaizumi.” Kuroo’s smirk is back in full force. “While you were off watching the parade not meant for human eyes, he told us about all of your embarrassing failures.”

Tooru’s eyelid twitches. “Well. I’m sure I can return the favor later.”

Kuroo and the tanuki family get off at the same stop, and the bus is now empty except for Tooru, the driver and an elderly woman with a shopping basket. Tooru pulls out his phone and debates whether or not it’d be too much to text Suga again, when his phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): let me know when you’re in town and I’ll come meet you!

That settles that, he supposes.

Me: ahh still got about half an hr left of this bus ride~ entertain me?

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): I would but I’m actually Working right now and not supposed to be on my phone :/

Me: (╯︵╰,)

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

Tooru flicks off the phone and stares out the window, watching the countryside roll past. Rural Japan is rural Japan in every region, he concludes, the old-fashioned houses and wide rice fields hardly too different from his family’s place in Kansai. He sees a few tengu flying, which is rare, but there’s less and less as they get further and further from the yokai village.

It’s a short walk from the bus stop to the shrine, and Tooru stands awkwardly outside the massive vermillion Torii gate marking the entrance, texting Suga.

Me: I’m here! (☆▽☆)/

Tooru feels rather than hears Suga approaching, his presence warming the autumn chill. “Oikawa-san?” Suga says.

Suga’s wearing priest clothes, a spiral key around his neck, and has little white fox ears poking out of his silvery hair, and wow, if Tooru didn’t have a thing for animal ears before. ( Everyone has a thing for animal ears, shut up, Iwa-chan.) He’s not glowing , exactly, but there’s definitely something different about him that screams “celestial.” He’s even more beautiful than Tooru remembers.

“That’s me! Nice to meet you properly,” Tooru says, smiling. He bows a bit to hide his blush.

“Nice to meet you properly, too.” Suga hides a giggle behind his hand.

The Takekoma Inari Shrine feels like it’s located in a different, ancient time and place, and Tooru’s hoping his jeans and oversized graphic sweatshirt don’t stick out too much. He hasn’t been to a temple properly in like, five years at least, not counting the requisite New Year’s visits with Iwaizumi. Suga takes him on a tour of the smaller subsidiary shrines on the temple grounds, chattering pleasantly about the different agricultural deities.

“So is this one of your responsibilities? Giving tours?” Tooru asks when they finally stop at the main worship hall.

“Not officially.” Suga shakes his head slightly. “It’s just something I end up doing a lot of the time. Officially, I act as a messenger from Inari to the temple.”

“What! That’s cool! How does that work?” Tooru is not going to ask a literal sacred being if gods really exist. He isn’t.

He’s very tempted.

“Um.” Suga laughs nervously. “Inari can sort of like...talk to me? Telepathically? Like I think things, but it’s obviously not me thinking them. You know?”

Tooru scribbles it in his notebook. “Did Inari make you into a myoubu, then?”

“Yeah.” Suga looks up at the sky, thinking. He fiddles with the key around his neck. “I worked at the shrine part-time in high school, and then one day Inari appeared to me in a dream and said I was chosen for this role. And then I woke up being able to turn into a fox, so that’s fun.”

“Sounds fun,” Tooru agrees. “What were you planning on doing after high school, before that happened?”

Suga shrugs, smile shrinking by a fraction. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Tooru pokes him. “Tell me anyway.”

Suga shakes his head. “Ah... I was going to go into medicine. I wanted to be a doctor and help people, you know? I was going to go to the same college as Daichi and another one of our friends, and have that whole ‘College experience,’ you know?” He stops in front of a tree and pulls a tiny leaf off a branch. Another tiny leaf instantly grows to fill its place. “It wasn’t like my life’s ambition or anything, but I kind of miss having choices for my future.”

That was both more and less personal than Tooru was expecting. “I can see you as a doctor,” Tooru says. “But I think you fit here, too.”

“I fit here,” Suga repeats. “Thank you, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru flaps a hand in front of his face, suddenly embarrassed for no reason. “You can be more casual with me, I don’t mind.”

“Tooru, then.”

“Kou-chan,” Tooru tries, and Suga grins.

They talk for what feels like a few minutes, but ends up being hours. Sugawara Koushi is funny, and interesting, and likes Tooru enough to spend a whole day talking to him. He likes extra-spicy tofu and smiles as though he’s getting away with something. He’s been friends with Sawamura since their first year of high school, and likes to keep in touch with people. Suga says the last bit while pressing his arm into Tooru’s side meaningfully, knowing Tooru’s based halfway across the country from Miyagi. Suga introduces Tooru to his coworkers briefly, but most of the time it’s just the two of them, sitting close in front of the massive, ancient wooden shrine structures and chattering about their lives as the sunlight slowly turns to gold.

“Well, now that you’ve recorded my entire life story, tell me about yourself.” Suga says, when they’re sitting on the high step in front of the main shrine. “Fair’s fair.”

Tooru leans back. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. You’ve been into yokai your whole life, right? Why?” He gives Tooru a Look. “There’s got to be more to it than one azuki arai.”

Tooru considers it. His standard answer doesn’t seem like enough. “I liked aliens first,” he begins, and Suga laughs. “I’m serious! I had all these alien plushies as a little kid. The first time I saw a yokai in real life I was convinced it was an alien.”

“Wow.”

“Shush. Anyway, I think I like the...strangeness of it. Like, intelligent life that isn’t human. Supernatural powers. That kind of thing. I dunno.”

One of the lanterns hanging off of the souvenir stall turns around to stare at them with one painted-on eye. Suga waves at it. The lantern turns back. “That’s a more interesting reason,” he says. “Anyway, my shift is up now.”

“Do you want to get dinner together?” Tooru asks. He’s sure Iwaizumi is laughing at him somewhere for falling for a fox-boy so quickly.

Suga beams, revealing white, pointed teeth. “I’d love to.”

They get ramen from a place where all of the servers know Suga by name. “Who’s your friend, Sugawara-san?” the guy behind the counter shouts.

“Professor Oikawa, from Kyodai!” Suga yells back.

Everyone within earshot makes an appreciative “ooooh” noise, which Tooru privately thinks does not happen often enough.

“You know Kuroo gave me the shovel talk on the bus today?” Tooru brings up, in between mouthfuls of some very good ramen. Probably not the best ramen in the world, but very good nonetheless.

“Did he!” Suga says, absolutely delighted to hear this. “I would’ve expected that from Daichi, but not Kuroo. Huh. Nice to know he cares, I guess.”

“I’m going back to Kyoto in a few days,” Tooru says.

Suga raises an eyebrow. “So? I like you.” He slurps his noodle and shrugs. “I know it hasn’t been very long at all, but I’m sure of that, at least. I want to spend time with you while you’re here.”

Tooru slams his head down on the table to hide his embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that so blatantly, jeez. How are you even real.”

Suga cackles, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Tooru.

“I’m trying to get our trip extended,” Tooru says. “The university’s not replying to my email, though.”

Suga puts one hand on top of Tooru’s. “You’re staying until at least tomorrow, right?” His smile turns almost feral. “Want to come back to my place?”

Tooru can’t get up from the table fast enough. He texts Iwaizumi on the way out of the restaurant, like a responsible friend would.

Me: staying at Suga’s place tonight ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Iwa-chan (ノ°益°)ノ: Gross. Use protection

Me: DUH

Me: also send me ur notes from today

Iwa-chan (ノ°益°)ノ: will do, did the dept head reply abt extending the trip?

Me: not yet (>_<)

Iwa-chan (ノ°益°)ノ: sucks

Iwa-chan (ノ°益°)ノ: put in a proposal to come back during winter or summer break?

Me: Already on it (￣^￣)ゞ

Suga takes the lead when they finally stumble into his apartment, kicking off his shoes and leading Tooru to the couch. Suga’s kisses are hot and intense, and they make Tooru want more.

“You know there’s like, rules about researchers not having relations with the subjects of said research, right?” Tooru mumbles into Suga’s neck in between kisses.

“Little late for that now,” Suga says, in a sing-songy voice. He cups Tooru’s face with one hand and runs the other through Tooru’s hair, making his breath catch.

They don’t talk much after that.

Tooru wakes up late the next morning to sunlight hitting his face and the smell of breakfast cooking in another room. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and another to remember how he’d spent the night before.

He wanders into the kitchen and puts his arms around Suga, who’s wearing normal human boxers and a t-shirt. It makes him look more human somehow. “Good morning,” Tooru says with a yawn.

“Morning,” Suga singsongs. “Do you like pancakes? I felt like making something sweet this morning.” He tilts the pan towards Tooru to show him the fluffy stack.

Tooru nuzzles the side of Suga’s neck, making his fox ears stick up. “I do like pancakes. Among other things.”

“And what other things might those be?”

“Hmm...I also like milk bread,” Tooru says. Suga rolls his eyes. “And you,” Tooru adds.

“I like you, too.” Suga says. “I think...” he hesitates for a moment. “I think you fit here.”

Tooru freezes. It’s a tempting proposition. He feels warm here, more at home than in his own apartment. But he still has classes to teach, and a paper to revise, and a conference to attend next month... “I’d have to think about that.”

“That’s all I ask,” Suga says, reaching up to cup Tooru’s cheek. They stay there until the pancakes start to burn.

Suga accompanies Tooru back to Bakegawa, where they meet up with Iwaizumi and Kuroo and Sawamura. Kuroo keeps smirking knowingly, Iwaizumi just looks tired. Sawamura and Suga hug.

“Thanks for introducing us, Daichi~!” Suga says.

“Yes, thank you, Sawacchi,” Tooru adds, slinging an arm around Suga’s waist.

“You are both menaces to society that should never be in the same room together,” Kuroo says. “How could we have let this happen?”

“Lies and slander, we’re both absolute delights,” Tooru retorts, sticking out his tongue. “Anyway, Iwa-chan has to teach a class on Tuesday, so we need to head out. But I’m really glad we got the chance to meet all of you.” Tooru bows. “Thank you for your hospitality!”

“We’ll be back the next time we have a break,” Iwaizumi adds.

They don’t leave right away after that, taking a half-hour or so to walk around and enjoy the sights of the village some more. Tooru snaps a hundred pictures on his phone of the churning river full of kappa and ushi-oni, the otters in human clothes drinking sake and strolling along the bridges, the kasa-obake hopping around on their single long legs. In daylight the yokai don’t seem scary, just different. Different and interesting. It’s why Tooru likes them so much.

He’s going to miss this, Tooru realizes, when they’re on that rickety local bus again. The bus is once again crowded with children and grannies and mothers, but it’s less strange and oppressive than it was the first time around.

A little girl with a lollipop sticking out of her mouth tugs on his sleeve, causing him to almost fall over. “You’re that professor guy, right? Kuroo-ji-san’s new friend?”

Tooru beams and flashes her a peace sign almost automatically. “That’s me!”

“Are you leaving forever?”

His smile freezes. Who trains these children, honestly. “Of course not! Iwaizumi-sensei and I are going to come back in a few months!”

The little girl stares at him in a way that has Tooru convinced she alone knows the fate of his eternal soul. “Good,” she says at last. It’s embarrassing how relieved Tooru feels at this child’s approval.

His phone vibrates.

Suga (=^ ◡ ^=): Travel safely! We should video-chat when you get home!

“Yes,” Tooru replies. “It is good.”